


Allowed

by Potrix



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Crying, Cuddling, Dex Makes It Better, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Even The Happiest Families Have Problems, Family Issues, First Kiss, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hugs, M/M, Nursey's Sad, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: The call ends, and Derek stares at his phone until the screen goes dark, blinking rapidly—and futilely—against the prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. It’s stupid to be upset about this, and it’s not like it’s a surprise, either. He’d expected it, and they’ve told him about the change of plans in advance this time, at least, but that doesn’t make it easier, somehow.It still fucking hurts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, totally jumped on the "Nursey has two moms" bandwagon. It's pretty nice up here. I like it.

The call ends, and Derek stares at his phone until the screen goes dark, blinking rapidly—and futilely—against the prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes. It’s stupid to be upset about this, and it’s not like it’s a surprise, either. He’d expected it, and they’ve told him about the change of plans in advance this time, at least, but that doesn’t make it easier, somehow.

It still fucking hurts.

“Nursey?” Derek startles at the sound of Dex’s voice, and quickly turns his head away, scrubbing a hand over his damp cheeks. “What are you still doing out here, it’s freezing.”

“Just,” Derek says, trying for casual, even though his voice comes out all croaky, “getting some air. It’s fine, bro. Go back inside, I’ll be right there.”

Instead of doing that, though, Dex steps outside onto the deck, and closes the Haus door behind himself. He perches on the windowsill next to Derek, close enough that their shoulders and hips are touching. “What’s wrong?”

“What,” Derek snaps, but it lacks heat, comes out sad more than anything else, “I can’t just sit out here because I want to?”

“Dude.” Dex looks over at him, one eyebrow raised pointedly. “It’s, like, forty degrees or something. You’re wearing a tank.”

Derek crosses his arms over his chest, and tucks his palms into his pits. He refuses to shiver. “Whatever.”

He hears Dex huff, frustrated, and mutter something that sounds suspiciously like, “Stubborn fucking idiot.” But then Dex curls an arm around him, tugging him even closer against his side, and, after a brief moment of resistance to show that he’s not impressed, Derek leans into the contact.

They sit in semi-comfortable silence for a while. Until Dex has to ruin it. “Your eyes are red,” he says, without preamble. “Were you crying?”

Derek says nothing, because what is there to say, anyway? My moms aren’t coming to my poetry reading tomorrow, even though they promised me they would this time. They’re going to Madrid instead, to a gallery opening, because, ‘A lot of influential people will be there, mijo, it’s a great opportunity for your Mama to network. You understand, don’t you?’ And Derek does, he really does. Mama’s worked so hard to be where she is now, against oppression and prejudice, and of course Mom would go with her, support her. What’s a college slam poetry night compared to a potential multi-million dollar deal?

“You’re allowed to be upset, you know,” Dex says, rubbing his hand up and down Derek’s arm. In a pretty spot on imitation of Stoned Shitty, he adds, “It’s not healthy to, like, suppress your emotions and shit. You gotta let it all out, brah.”

“Look at you, having hidden talents,” Derek laughs, jostling Dex a little. Dex flicks him in the face for that, so Derek pokes him in the ribs, making him yelp, to which Dex answers by ruffling a hand through Derek’s carefully styled hair. It feels nice, though, so Derek doesn’t push him away. Dex continues his gentle scratching, and Derek leans his head against his shoulder, sighing deeply. “It’s—it’s stupid. I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard. It’s nothing new, you know? I should be used to it by now.”

Dex rests his chin on top of Derek’s head, hand moving down to cup the back of Derek’s neck. “You miss them. It’s normal.”

“How did you—“

“You excused yourself to take a call from your parents, a day before your poem thing, and then you vanished for nearly forty minutes without saying anything.” Derek can’t see him, but he knows Dex is probably rolling his eyes right about now. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.”

They fall silent again, but don’t move apart. Somehow, Dex manoeuvres Derek half into his jacket, and Derek throws his legs over Dex’s, sitting sideways, more in his lap than not, tucked in close. And maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t; it feels right, like this, right here, is what they’ve been heading towards ever since they’d finally gotten over themselves early their sophomore year, and talked things out. Stopped being idiots.

“Hey,” Derek murmurs, and pulls back just enough so they can look at each other. Dex’s cheeks are flushed from the cold, his lips chapped because he’s always biting them when he’s concentrating, and there’s a bit of grease in his hair from his last encounter with the dryer down in the basement. But he’s smiling at Derek, small and soft, and makes this tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat when Derek brushes their mouths together. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Dex promises, and Derek kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in answer to [a prompt on tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/post/153366354343/if-youre-still-doing-them-i-would-do-aaaanything).
> 
> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works), or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


End file.
